The Break
by Idrelle Miocovani
Summary: Rhea has never been able to figure out exactly what her relationship with her fellow thief is-friends? More than friends? Lovers? But with change on the wind and family duty weighing on her shoulders, Rhea may not have the chance to unravel it.


**A/N:** I wanted to explore more of my Tabris' backstory, particularly her days in Denerim before she joined the Grey Wardens. This short story takes place a year before DA:O. Rhea is 19 at the time. Rating is for mature language and sexual content.

* * *

 **The Break**

Rhea had always like the Denerim harbour.

She knew she was probably alone in her opinion. The Ravens didn't frequent this side of town, unless they wanted to freshen things up or take an overdue visit to the Pearl. Their little gang had made its mark in the northern districts of the city, closer to the alienage and the marketplace. They were comfortable there. They knew the streets and the back alleys, the sewers and the rooftops. They knew how to make a quick exit when necessary, out a window and over a rooftop or down a sewer.

The harbour, on the other hand, the Ravens barely knew at all. Though it was just across the river, it felt like a different world. It had its own rhythms, its own chaos. While the marketplace rang with the voices of dwarven and Ferelden merchants, the harbour was alive with a strange, transient music. With so many sailors, traders and travellers passing through, the harbour was never quite the same twice. Once, Rhea had encountered a young Antivan elf, strumming a lute as he sat on the edge of the docks, gazing at the stars. He babbled away to her in Antivan as he played and sung, happy that someone was listened. When Rhea tossed him a couple silvers as a thank you, he smiled and nodded graciously, then kissed her hand in thanks. She had never seen him again, but she remembered his melody for years afterwards.

There was a strange beauty in the transient, shapeshifting nature of the harbour, despite the stink of piss and ale and rotting fish. Babs said it was disgusting, complaining vocally whenever she brought the crew dockside. Rhea didn't mind. Her nose was acclimatized to offensive smells. The alienage stunk worse than the harbour.

Besides, the harbour held a promise she would never find in the northern districts: the freedom to make your own way, wherever that would take you.

"You lost in there or something?"

Rhea blinked and covered her momentary detachment by taking a long swig of ale. "Nah," she replied. "Just thinking."

Daveth rolled his eyes. "I think that's the same thing as being lost in there," he said, reaching across the table and tapping her on the forehead.

Rhea crinkled her nose and slapped his hand away. "Fuck off."

Daveth chuckled good-naturedly, then glanced briefly across the room, checking up on the rest of his crew.

The bar was busier than usual tonight night, filled to the brim with men and women craving the intoxication of drink and sex. A handful of musicians had taken up a corner of the bar, their pipes and fiddles playing along merrily. Bodies in various stages of undress were pressed together, coarse laughter and cursing filling the air. An elven woman with tattoos on her face—had she once been Dalish?—had climbed up on a table to dance, her arms and hips moving sensually in time to the music as people cheered her on. Every so often an elegantly dressed prostitute with a patron on their arm would saunter up to the large double doors that led deeper into the brothel. The patron would pass a handful of coin to Madam Sanga before passing by the bodyguards with a smirk and a giggle.

Rhea had never been on the other side of those doors. Sometimes she fantasized about it. There was a young elven man here who had caught her eye some time ago. He was very handsome, with a curly mop of red hair and a shapely face. But what she liked most about him was his eyes. They seemed kind. She thought he would be an excellent lover, attentive and caring. At least, that was what she imagined in her fantasy, when they lay together in a tangle of soft sheets, his hands gently caressing her body and exploring her body in ways she could never, ever divulge to anyone.

Not that it would ever happen.

Not that it could ever happen.

Not with her step-father's unbelievably stupid plan lurking on the horizon.

"You're doing it again," Daveth said. "Still thinking?"

"You're making it very difficult for me to _not_ throw this mug at your head," Rhea said.

A man's angry voice cut through the din. Rhea and Daveth spun, catching sight of a large, red-faced man throwing his tankard and slamming his hands on the table as he shouted about a lost game of Wicked Grace. The woman sitting opposite him merely tilted her large hat in his direction and the man immediately demanded another round.

"Good old Carter," Daveth sighed, shaking his head. "He can't admit that he's a poor hand at cards to a lady. At this rate, he'll lose all his shares."

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you stop him, then?"

"Me? Since when an all-mighty crew leader like him going to listen to a squirt like me?" Daveth shook his head. "Besides, it's not _my_ earnings he's gambling away. What a man does with his share is his own business. I know exactly where I want to spend mine."

Rhea twisted a loose lock of black hair around her finger. "And that is?"

Daveth tut-tutted and leaned back against his chair. He held his tankard idly as he lounged, putting his feet up on the table. "So demanding!" he said with mock amazement. "Really, Rhea, do you expect me to spill _all_ of my secrets?"

Rhea rolled her eyes. "I've seen your cock, I'm not sure how many more secrets you have left to hide."

Daveth nearly spat out a mouthful of ale. He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I can't tell if that was a compliment or not," he said. "Let's pretend that never happened, shall we?"

Rhea chuckled quietly to herself as Daveth grimaced. She loved getting a rise out of him. He was such an easy target.

She took a drink, momentarily retreating from the boisterousness of the bar as she savoured its flavourful, but bitter taste. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Babs surrounding herself with hangers-on, a girl on one arm and a young man caressing her shoulders as she loudly spun wild stories about her adventures in Orzammar. Babs was a bit of a commodity, particularly at the Pearl. She was strong, she was entertaining, she was beautiful and she was foreign. That she a dwarf of noble blood who had been forcibly evicted from Orzammar for misdemeanour only added to her mystique.

Babs was everything Rhea was not.

Rhea tried to curb her jealousy. There was no point in wasting her time wishing that her life was different, that she could be a different person. Someone who embraced life, who didn't let their circumstances wear them down. Someone who was desirable in every aspect of her being. Someone who could be with whomever she chose, whenever she chose. Someone who could be whoever she wanted to be, whenever she chose.

Babs had the world at her feet.

Rhea had…

Well, she had Daveth.

And Daveth was… she didn't know what.

He was a thief and a pickpocket, so at least they had that in common. He was on a different crew, so technically they were rivals, but Rhea didn't let that small fact bother her. They worked different territory after all. If they were real rivals, their first meeting would have ended with spilt blood rather than sex.

She had met him a year ago, completely by accident, inside a manor house in the north-eastern district of the city. They had both been attempting to steal from the same noblewoman, using completely different methods. Rhea had spent the evening infiltrating the woman's chambers; Daveth had gained entrance through seduction. They bumped into each other trying to pick the lock of a trunk in the woman's bedroom, while she lay fast asleep on a couch in the adjoining salon. Rhea and Daveth's impromptu argument had woken her up and they were caught red-handed before diving out the window and fleeing over the rooftops and through the back alleys until they ended up in a pile of hay behind the Chantry.

Breathless and with blood pumping from adrenaline, they had both quickly discovered that blood was pumping someplace else. The night had ended with Daveth's hands tangled in Rhea's hair, and her mouth firmly around his penis.

Rhea had intended for it to be a one-time only event.

But it quickly turned into an arrangement. A very pleasant arrangement (and one her step-father vitriolically disapproved of), but an arrangement none-the-less.

An arrangement that would have to, someday soon, come to an end.

Rhea jumped as she heard the alarming scrape of wood against wood. Daveth stood up and pulled his chair around the table. He sat down next to her, grabbed her drink and pushed it out of her reach.

"Hey!"

"No," he said. "You'll get this back in a moment. What is wrong with you tonight?"

" _What?"_

"You know, I look forward to our little encounters," Daveth said. "They're the highlight of my week—to be honest, but _don't_ pass that on to Carter, I'll never live it down—but even I know enough about you to know when something isn't right. What's wrong?"

Rhea flushed. She looked down, unsure of what to say.

"Rey…" Daveth put a hand over hers. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But I know something has been on your mind. Maybe it's time you let it out."

Rhea folded her arms, her tongue resting against the back of her teeth.

 _Just spit it out._

"It's none of your concern," she said, grabbing her tankard out of his hands.

"Okay," he said as he watched her drain it.

"Do you want another drink, Dav?" Rhea said. "Or do you want to fuck?"

Daveth sighed. "Whatever you want."

Rhea's eyes darted across the bar. The red-headed elven prostitute was there, his beautiful face shining in the candlelight as he grinned and laughed at something Babs had said. She watched as he kissed her lightly on the lips.

She tried not to imagine that it was her lips he was kissing.

Rhea stood up and seized Daveth by his shirt. She pulled him in close, her lips a mere breath away from his, her keen eyes burning into his. "Then let's fuck," she said, and crushed her lips against his. He kissed her back, his hands caressing the sides of her face, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She heard a congratulatory whoop and felt the eyes of nearby patrons boring into them as they kissed, her tongue slipping into his mouth. He tasted like ale and something stronger.

Rhea couldn't help but think that there should have been something more in that kiss. But there wasn't.

Rhea broke the kiss and dragged Daveth away, through the side door and into the back alley that ran alongside the Pearl.

She couldn't afford a room in the brothel. She had other uses for her coin, namely keeping her mother and step-father afloat. And she wouldn't want a room in the brothel anyway. It was too soft, too provocative, a haze of smoke and candlelight, of imported silks and perfumes. Even if she fantasized it differently, she knew she would never be comfortable there, sleeping on a bed that had housed thousands before her.

And there was something else about being outside, in alleys and backstreets, in stables and courtyards, that sent a thrill down her spine. It had always been that way with them, from their first night together and the many, many nights afterwards.

It was the only thing that really gave her any sense of pleasure any more.

 _You're pathetic,_ Rhea thought as she stumbled along the alley, her lips pressed against Daveth's. _So, so, so pathetic._ She wrapped her hands around his neck and jumped, her legs twining around his waist. He lifted her up and pushed her against the brothel wall. _You should just tell him._

Daveth kissed her along her jaw, nipping at her earlobe. She felt the sharp sting as his lips tugged a little too hard around the earrings that pierced her lower lobe, but she didn't mind. Her back scraped against the wall and she left out a soft gasp as he sucked her overly sensitive ear.

She closed her eyes, imagining that it was someone else's lips. A tingling warmth ignited in her stomach.

"Put me down, put me down!" she said hurriedly, untangling her legs from his waist.

Daveth lowered her to the ground. She kissed him hungrily, seizing his jacket and spinning him around. She slammed him into the wall and she heard a faint grunt of protest.

"Are you all right?" she murmured against his lips.

"Yeah, fine," he replied breathlessly.

"Good," she said, grinding against him.

"Are _you_ all right?"

"Yeah. Fine." She seized one of his hands, placing it on her breast. "I just want you to fuck me." Her breath caught in her throat. "Please."

"I think I can do that," he said, squeezing her breast.

The rough fabric of her tunic itched her skin.

Daveth's hand slid down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her trousers as he pulled her backwards into him. She felt a hard bulge against her rear as his hand slid into her trousers and under her smallclothes. His fingers knew how to work her, and work her well, and soon she was shaking beneath his touch. He kissed her neck, supporting her with one arm as his fingers stoked the fire within her.

Rhea closed her eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

 _You should just tell him. He needs to—he_ deserves _to know._

A moan escaped her.

"You do sound beautiful when you do that," he whispered against her ear.

 _Oh, Maker. I_ can't _tell him. Not now._

Daveth's lips kissed her ear and she trembled from the overwhelming sensation. She coasted on the pleasure, clearing her mind of all thought, her breath heaving. It felt good, but no matter how good it felt, the satisfaction of it had been lost of her months ago.

 _No._

"Wait, wait," Rhea panted, pulling away. She flung herself away from Daveth and leaned against the wall of the opposite building. She saw his confused look in the moonlight.

"What?" he said. "That bad, huh?"

"No," she replied. "No. It's good, it's not that, it's…"

She heard a chorus of laughter echo down the street. Footsteps thudded in the distance as people walked past their alley on their way to the Pearl.

Rhea brushed her hair aside and raised her chin. "Just stay there."

"What?"

She stepped towards him. "Just stay there," she said quietly, kissing him gently. She ran a hand over the bulge in his trousers.

"Rey…" Daveth's voice broke.

"Like I said," she said, rubbing her hand over his crotch. "Just stay where you are."

She kissed him slowly, her tongue running over his lips, gently flicking his teeth as she slowly undid his trousers. He groaned against her ear, and she smiled. Even if her feelings about him were complicated and confused, she could at least take solace in the fact that she knew what made him tick. She gripped him around the waist and slowly lowered herself to her knees. Pushing him back against the wall, she kissed the tip of his erect penis and then slowly ran her tongue over it.

"Oh, _Maker…_ Rhea…"

She could feel him trembling.

"I thought I said," Rhea murmured, placing wet kisses along his shaft, "to stay there." She ran a thumb over the tip.

He gasped. "I… think I can manage that."

Rhea grinned, and took him in her mouth.

She loved this aspect of their relationship. She loved the way his breath caught in his throat, the raking of his fingers in her hair, the gasps, the moans, the final cry. He was in her grasp, and it was beautiful in its satisfaction.

Another thunder of passing footsteps, another chorus of gruff laughter. Rhea wanted to look, to see if anyone had discovered them. The voices were too far away, but they still made her shiver with anticipation.

Daveth was near to the cusp now, trembling and shaking, murmuring her name, his hand pulling on her hair.

Rhea released him with a wet pop. "Not yet," she said.

He looked down at her. It took him a moment. "Not yet," he agreed.

"Fuck me, Dav," she murmured. "Fuck me hard."

"I think I can manage that."

She grinned and he pulled her up, pressing his lips desperately against hers as his hands pulled at the laces of her trousers. He fumbled and she helped him, eager now to finish. She undid the laces and pulled her trousers and smallclothes down, the material tangling around her legs. She turned around, taking his hands and placing them around her waist, his erection pressing against her. The alley was narrow, and she pushed her hands against the opposite wall, bracing herself as he slid into her. It was a familiar feeling by now, but she gasped all the same, the sensation overwhelming her. They rocked together in the dirt, unsteady at first but eventually finding their rhythm. She was careless with her voice—they were outside a brothel, there were many voices in the air this night—and she moaned and gasped, his hands pressing into her hips as he thrusted against her.

Footsteps stopped at the end of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone point at them. A shiver went down her spine. She gasped, trembling, her head arching back, Daveth's fingers pulling at her hair.

 _Knife-eared whore_ echoed down the alley.

"Ignore them, Rey," Daveth murmured, not missing a beat in his thrusts. "It's just you and me… you and me."

Rhea panted. It took her a moment to reply.

"Don't… talk. Please."

He obeyed.

Moments later, he came, voice breaking as he murmured her name. He held her softly, his fingers helping her reach her end. When it came, though she cried out, she found no satisfaction.

They were silent for a long moment as they knelt in the muck of the back alley. Finally, Rhea stood, pulling up her trousers and lacing them up.

"Well," she said, "thanks, I guess."

Daveth touched her arm. "Rey," he said. "Come on."

"'Come on' _what_?"

"You're just going to leave it like this?"

Rhea crossed her fingers. "What are you talking about?" she said. "This is _always_ how we leave it."

"Yeah," Daveth shot back at her, "but it doesn't have to be!"

They stared at each other, eyes hard in the moonlight. Rhea's lip curled, all the thoughts and reasons why she couldn't give him what he wanted running through her mind. She stared at him, shaking with anger.

 _He needs to know why._

She bit her tongue, shoulders sinking. She looked at him, then averted her eyes, hair hanging in front of her face.

"Please, Dav," she said quietly.

"What?" he snapped.

"Pull your trousers up," she said.

" _What?"_

"Pull your trousers up. I can't have a decent conversation with you with your cock hanging out."

Daveth snarled and pulled his trousers up. "There," he said, lacing up the front. "Is that better? Are you going to tell me what's going on now that my offensive cock is out of the picture?"

Rhea's stomach turned, heat flushing her cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly, "I just meant—"

"You know, sometimes you really are a bitch," Daveth said.

"Dav—"

"And that's okay," he continued, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "considering I'm a bit of a cunt myself."

"I'm getting married," Rhea blurted.

Daveth stared at her.

"I beg your pardon?" he said.

"I'm getting married," Rhea repeated.

Daveth's eyes widened. "To _who?_ Who in Andraste's flaming name do you know well enough to get married to?"

"It's arranged," Rhea said blankly.

Daveth broke into hysterical laughter. He paced back and forth in the alley, hands thrusting even deeper into his pockets. "Who the fuck arranges marriages these days?" he exclaimed. "Aside from the nobility, of course. But fuck them, they don't know anything—"

"Plenty of people have arranged marriages," Rhea said, folded her arms. It came out more defensively than she intended. "It's common in elven communities."

"It's shit, that's what it is—"

"And according to Babs, it happens all the time in Orzammar."

"That doesn't count." Daveth scowled. "This is some elven thing, isn't it."

It was an accusation more than anything else.

"Well, in case you didn't notice, I _am_ elven," Rhea said. "So it's reasonable for it to be an _elven thing,_ yes."

"Do you even know the man?" Daveth demanded.

"No," Rhea said. "I know his name. He's arriving in Denerim in a few weeks. Regardless, it will be months, maybe even a year, before the wedding—"

Daveth burst into laughter. "Can't you even hear how ridiculous you sound right now? You're getting married to a man you don't know!"

"I _have_ to!" Rhea shouted. "For my family's sake, I _have_ to!"

"And what does Adaia say about this, hm? She can't be pleased."

"Don't you _dare_ bring my mother into this." There were tears prickling behind Rhea's eyes.

"If she doesn't put her foot down on this whole ordeal, then I'm a fool."

" _Then you're a fool."_

Daveth blinked, staggering backwards. "She agrees with this nonsense?"

"She wants me to be happy," Rhea said quietly.

"And you're not happy with me?" Daveth demanded.

"Why even bother asking that question?" Rhea spat. "It's not like you and I will ever get married!"

Daveth paused, his expression darkening. "Thanks for that, Rey. What a shining endorsement that is."

"Andraste's arse! We _sleep_ together, Dav! I'm not suddenly going to move into your home and start having your children. What do you want?"

"This is all rubbish," Daveth sneered. "That's what this is— _rubbish."_

"Stop it," Rhea snapped. "Don't be like this."

"What am I supposed to be like?" Daveth shouted. "You've been acting strange all night, and then you drag me out here for sex and now you tell me you're getting bleedin' married? How am I supposed to act?"

"I don't know!" Rhea's arms tightened around her body. "Anything but this!"

"I just don't understand what _this_ is," Daveth said. "We have sex—you're getting married—what _am_ I supposed to do with this?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Rhea turned away from him, stepping further down the alley. "I don't know," she repeated, so soft her voice almost disappeared.

"Okay, okay…" Daveth paced in a small circle, twisting his fingers together. He sighed heavily. "This is a fucking awful situation, but… What are you going to do? Maybe you can get out of it."

"I can't."

Daveth balked. "Rey, come on. It's you. You can get out of anything."

"Not without leaving my family," Rhea said. She turned back to him, face half illuminated by moonlight. "I like you, Dav. I like you a lot. But I've never really known what it is we have, or where it's going—"

He pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her mouth. "Does it matter?" he said quietly.

Rhea pushed him away forcefully. Daveth slammed into the brothel wall. "Yes!" she yelled. "Yes, it does matter!" She drew herself up to her full height. Though she was an inch or two shorter than Daveth, in the partial darkness she seemed to tower over him. "Because _I'm_ elven and _you're_ not. We keep to ourselves, because that's what is safe, that is what's secure, that is how you keep your family _protected._ " She laughed coarsely. "You know the one thing my step-father said to me again and again? _Don't fall in love with a human._ _Keep to your own kind. Your life will be easier that way._ And did I listen? _No._ Of course I didn't. I just _had_ to go and…"

She stopped.

 _I just had to go and fall in love with you._

But she couldn't say it. Because no matter how much she wished it, it wasn't true.

She didn't love him. She had never loved him.

Daveth was kind, Daveth was funny. He was enthralled by her in a way that no one else had ever been. But he didn't love her. And she didn't love him. It was attraction, appreciation for each other, but not love.

"You just had to go and what, Rhea?" Daveth said coldly.

"It was sex, Daveth," Rhea said. "Nothing more."

She pushed past him, heading for the main street. She half expected him to grab her, to stop her, to kiss her, to do _something._ She wanted him to. She desperately, _desperately_ wanted him to.

But he just stood there. He didn't even watch her go.

Rhea strode out of the alley, tears in her eyes, and never looked back.


End file.
